Jax - Thin Ice
As I head up the Jimmy Buffett highway toward Pelican Point, I can feel the stress leaving my body the closer I get to the small coastal town. Once I turn off of the A1A, my GPS guides me toward the beach and a row of seaside cottages, a world away from my high-rise condo in downtown West Palm.
I pull into a small parking area to the rear of the pastel color cottages. Elise told me to walk around to the beach side, since the front of the cottages face the water. As I approach the third house, she’s sitting on the front porch looking out at the crystal clear water. Although I can see West Palm Beach from the balcony of my condo, this is an entirely different view, and it is spectacular. Soft white sand, clear water, and a stunning sky with a fiery sun that’s about to set.
She waves as I approach her house. She looks cute and casual with her long hair pulled back, a faded t-shirt with aChicago Arts Districtlogo, and distressed jeans with cut marks all overthe front. She’s barefoot, and I can’t help but notice her toes are painted pink, just like her house. Taken aback by the raw beauty of the setting and her against that backdrop, I blabber like an idiot.
“Your house. It’s pink. I don’t think I’ve never seen a pink house before.”
She throws her head back and laughs, the sound warming me like the sunlight on a hot day.
“Wait until you see the rest of the place. Come on in.”
I step up onto the porch and follow her inside, the screen door banging closed behind us. Although it’s warm inside, the open door and windows allow the sea breeze to waft through, keeping the inside naturally cool.
“Make yourself at home. I hope you like salad and spaghetti, because that’s just about the only thing I know how to make.”
“Sounds fine to me.” As I look around the large open area—a living room, kitchen, and dining area combined—I see a place that is uniquely Elise. Down to earth, eclectic, beachside cottage vibes. The house is filled with plants, handmade ceramics, and works by local artists covering the walls.
Inside her own space, she’s relaxed and down-to-earth, contrasting starkly with the guarded and all-business demeanor she displays at the arena. Although I’d be content doing nothing but watching her, I don’t want her to think I’m a total slouch.
“What can I do to help?”
She points to the center island. “All the ingredients for the salad are there. Can you handle that?”
“Sure.” As I cut veggies and toss everything into a bowl, I keep the conversation going, sharing what I’ve observed since I arrived. “Your place is so relaxing and comfortable. It suits you. Much different from your work vibe.”
She turns away from the stove as she answers. “You’re right. When I broke off my engagement and left Chicago, I createddeliberate boundaries between my personal and professional life. I’ve worked hard to keep those lines from crossing. Especially when it comes to being around athletes.”
I file that bit of information away for future reference. The mixed signals I’ve been getting from her make a little more sense now.
As we prepare to sit down to eat, Elise pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge.
“Would you like some wine with dinner? I’ve got a great red from the Celtic Knot, a local winery.”
She pours us each a glass and I take a sip, savoring the rich flavors with a hint of sweetness. “I’m no expert on wines, but this is damn good.”
“I discovered the winery a while back. It’s family owned, and the atmosphere there is really cool.”
“Maybe we could go there sometime. I’d like to check it out.”
I’d much rather spend a low key evening at a small town winery than going to any of the upscale restaurants in West Palm. I’m finishing a heaping plate of spaghetti when my cell rings. I want to shut out the rest of the world and continue to enjoy the time with her, but when I move to silence the call,Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Departmentscrolls across the screen.
A frown of worry creases my brow as my mind races through the possibilities of bad news. “I’m sorry. I need to answer this.” I put the phone to my ear. “Jax Morgan.”
“We’ve got a Cole Landry in custody here. You’re his designated phone call.”
“What happened?”
“He was brought in on a DUI.”
Shit. “Is he hurt? Was anyone hurt?”
“Fortunately, no one is hurt and no one else is involved. He’s been processed, and is ready for release if he can make bail.”
“I’m up in Pelican Point right now, but I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I disconnect and tell Elise what’s going on.
